


Sanctuary

by Laurasauras



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Solarpunk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-26 03:15:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20036998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: Cobb Harley has a habit of adopting people who need an escape and taking them back to an island where they can be safe. Bro and Dave Strider are the newest residents, and it's going to be an adjustment.This fic is currently on hiatus while I focus on finishing other ones.





	Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing this as I go so I'll update tags as I go too. Sometimes you just gotta write a solarpunk au with no real plot.

Dave has never truly appreciated how awesome dry land is. Never. And he doesn’t even have it as bad as Bro, who is a combination of seasick and also his ever-present affliction of being a neurotic asshole. Dave’s never seen him comfortable in a vehicle he isn’t personally in control of, and none of Cobb’s cheery assurances or lessons on how to operate the ship have quite offset that anxiety. 

Even though Dave fared better, he’s pretty damn happy to feel his feet hit steady ground. He nearly topples sideways, compensating for a shift in his footing that’s entirely in his head, but Cobb’s giant hand on his shoulder steadies him. Dave glances around to see if Bro saw, but he’s probably having one last chunder. Cobb pats his hand again on Dave’s shoulder and then bounds ahead, fucking sprightly for an old guy. 

‘Harley,’ a troll says, meeting him just outside the treeline. 

Dave stays put on the dock. He knows how dangerous trolls can be. Bro steps next to Dave, not faltering in his steps at all despite the unsteadiness of the waves fucking him up worse than Dave.

‘He didn’t say he had trolls in his Utopia,’ Bro mutters. 

‘He ever say anything to you that you didn’t like the sound of?’ Dave asks.

Bro doesn’t reply, but Dave can feel his disapproval. He’s not in trouble yet, but he’s flirting with the edge. Bro’s got a short temper at the best of times, two weeks of barely being able to keep his food down has not improved it.

‘Come on, come on!’ Cobb calls, turning back to gesture to Bro and Dave. He waves with his whole arm and half of his body as well. Dave has no idea why Bro trusts this man when he trusts no one else, especially considering how opposite they are.

Bro sighs almost imperceptibly and walks forward. Dave copies. They meet Cobb and the troll, staying firmly behind Cobb. 

No weapons that Dave can see, but still. Troll. Small, rounded horns, but that might actually mean he can use them compared to the decorative bullshit ones that’d snap under pressure, and a tight knit red vest that shows off some impressive guns. 

‘Karkat! This is Bro and his brother, Dave. They’re coming to live with us!’

‘Us,’ Karkat repeats dryly, as if that’s not going to happen. Dave’s stomach clenches uncomfortably. They need this. ‘Alright, Jacob, let’s get you a proper meal in you and I’ll figure out where the fuck these two are going to sleep.’

‘We’ll find the space!’ Cobb says. ‘We always do.’

Karkat rolls his eyes and starts to walk down a path through the trees. Dave hadn’t noticed it at all until Karkat pulled back a fern and strode down it with confidence. 

Before last month, Dave had never been outside a city unless it was on a highway travelling to a different city. He’s been to parks, of course, but even the troll park that he wasn’t supposed to go in kept their plants _contained_. Like, he knew the jungle was going to be wild, but this might be a bit much, that’s all he’s saying. Does Bro really think this is going to work?

They follow Karkat as the path changes from sand to dirt, as the prevalence of roots sticking out trying to trip them stops, as it widens and the trees stop pressing in so much. On his left, Dave stares at some that are just green sticks with leaves, the same size all the way up. He watches birds he doesn’t recognise fly from tree to tree and itches to ask questions. 

Just when Dave is just about to give into his impulse to ask _something_ (how many people are on the island? What was that sound? Do you ship lots of things in? Are the other people trolls? How much further?) the trees clear entirely and they arrive at a village. 

A girl about Dave’s age flings herself at Cobb and he spins her around, laughing. There’s a really old troll woman sitting on a chair outside one of the houses and she gives Dave a tiny wave before turning back to her book. There’s movements in a couple of the houses, but apart from that, it’s pretty quiet.

Small houses. Most of them are about the size of a decent trailer, with a couple of bigger ones, one with doors all the way up and across like a stable. There’s a greenhouse that’s bigger than any of them and the ground is all very flat and clear. Dave itches for his skateboard, that’s how good the ground is. Weird.

‘Welcome,’ Karkat says. His tone is almost sarcastic, but Dave has a sense for this kind of shit, and it feels sincere. The bite’s all aimed at Cobb. 

Dave’s not really sure why and he’s dying to ask, but he can’t really play dumb and insightful at the same time. Until he knows it’s safe, he’s gonna err on the side of dumb and unthreatening. Bro’s got enough of the other side for both of them.

‘Where is everyone?’ Cobb asks. 

‘Working,’ Karkat says, and Dave’s definitely not imagining that bite. Dave glances at Bro and Bro gives him a look like he’s to keep his mouth shut. ‘C’mon, kitchen’s the big one in the middle. I’ll give you a proper tour later.’

Cobb smiles warmly at Dave and Bro like he doesn’t see anything wrong with Karkat’s attitude and claps Bro on the shoulder before hurrying to keep up with Karkat. For a short guy, he can put some speed in those gams. The girl waves at Dave when he looks around to see if she’s coming with. Apparently not.

The kitchen’s pretty damn big. It has two tables, both three chairs long and one chair wide, an empty fireplace at one end and the actual kitchen setup at the other. A tall troll with his hands full of dough looks at them curiously. 

‘More strays for our flock, Cobb?’ he asks. 

‘Yeah,’ Karkat answers, before Cobb can. ‘What have you got that they can eat, they’ve been trapped on his shitheap of a boat for God knows how long, and look at his face, do you think that turnip-fucking grapefruit can cook?’ Karkat points at Bro. 

Bro raises his eyebrow by several degrees. Karkat isn’t even looking at him to see how his insult landed. Dave very carefully doesn’t laugh.

‘Biscuits,’ the troll-cook says, nodding his head towards a clay jar, ‘bread,’ towards a lump covered by a gauzy cloth, ‘fruit,’ towards a bowl, ‘and this gooey mess will be pizza under my righteous kneading if the messiahs see fit to keep time turnin’ how it always done.’

‘Thanks, Gamzee. Oh, fuck, Gamzee, this is Bro and Dave. Vice versa. Gamzee cooks everything, so don’t piss him off. Luckily, he doesn’t piss off easy, and if he does he won’t fucking poison you.’

Cobb moves forward and inches into the cookie jar like he expects Karkat to stop him. Karkat ignores him and goes to a shelf behind Gamzee, takes a jar and two knives and starts cutting up the bread. Dave swallows hungrily.

‘Where’d you pick them up, anyway?’ Karkat asks.

Cobb hands the jar backwards to Bro and pats his hands awkwardly on his vest to get rid of crumbs. Bro hands Dave a cookie and he manages not to snatch it. Oh sweet, baby Jesus, this is a good cookie.

‘America!’ Cobb says.

‘And _why?’_

Cobb looks awkwardly back at Dave and Bro. Dave stares blankly back, because that’s what they do when they’re asked personal questions. He’s pretty fucking surprised when Bro answers.

‘Saved us,’ Bro says. 

Karkat looks at Bro and Dave kinda feels the splashback on the intensity of that look. Bro apparently doesn’t feel it even though it’s directed at him. He bites a cookie, prince of nonchalance. 

‘Let’s talk about it later!’ Cobb says.

‘Yeah, because that’s what we do. We return to the conversations you put off.’

Karkat finishes spreading jam onto the bread and ducks beneath the island bench to grab two plates. He drops the bread on the plates and picks them up with the same energy he’s done everything; like he’s really fucking pissed off with his roommate and the only way to demonstrate it is by slamming doors wherever they are, even if the metaphorical door is a slice of really thick, hand sliced bread. He hands a plate each to Dave and Bro and looks at Cobb challengingly.

‘Are you sticking around long enough to make it worth my while slicing another piece?’ he asks.

‘I should unload the ship,’ Cobb says.

‘John’s helping Tavros with some fences,’ Karkat says. 

‘Right,’ Cobb says. 

He hesitates, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to leave but really doesn’t want to stay. Then he gives Dave a massive cheeky grin, the kind that always has him thinking bizarrely of Santa even though Cobb ain’t that old, and leaves the room in quick, crouched strides. 

Karkat groans and faceplants into Gamzee’s arm with what looks like the full force of his body. Gamzee moves with him, but in this very particular way like he knew that staying still would hurt Karkat and he’s not about that. Karkat recovers himself and straightens up, shoving his messy hair out of his eyes. 

‘Sit at the table, assholes, we’re not savages here.’

Dave obeys immediately, but Bro takes his time sitting down next to him at the table. Dave hasn’t ever had bread like this before, or jam like this either. He assumes it’s because it’s fresh, but he’s been to bakeries early in the morning before. There’s _bits_ in the jam, like pieces of raspberry that haven’t been fully squashed, and it’s not as sweet as what he’s used to, it’s _definitely_ not remotely the same thing as the jelly that they used to keep and then forget about in the back of the fridge. He’s suddenly wondering if maybe this place won’t be as bad as he’d thought.

Karkat rubs a nubby horn into Gamzee’s shoulder like he’s a cow with an itch as Dave works through his bread. Gamzee doesn’t show any indication of minding until he’s evidently done with his kneading. He pats the ball of dough like it’s a pet before he covers it up and puts it in a cupboard. Karkat turns the tap at the sink for him and Gamzee smiles dopily at him.

Dave looks at Bro to see what he thinks of two dudes getting their PDA on like that. Bro doesn’t seem to care. Huh.

‘Okay,’ Karkat says. ‘Okay. Jesus fuck-shitting Christ, why is it always me who sorts this shit out?’

‘Want me to get my organise on, brother?’ Gamzee offers, leaning his forearms on the bench and tilting his head at Karkat. ‘I could sort a motherfucker out. Equius been showing me how to get my command on, you dig?’

_’No,’_ Karkat says. ‘Thank you. I’m fine.’ He sits at the table opposite Bro and glares at him and Dave. It doesn’t seem especially hostile, more like just the natural way his face falls.

‘Okay,’ Karkat repeats. ‘Do either of you have any skills.’

‘We’re fighters,’ Bro says. 

Dave struggles not to let himself smile at being included in that. He can be cool.

‘I asked about your _skills_,’ Karkat says. ‘We’re on an island in the middle of nowhere. Even if it wasn’t super populated with _trolls_, making your crotchstained nincompoopian asses incredibly fucking obsolete in terms of fighting prowess, _no one_ is coming here that Cobb doesn’t personally drive in his golden fucking boat of hope and adventure.’

Bro leans back in the chair, and it’s probably only about the third time Dave’s seen him surprised in his whole life. 

‘You tellin’ me you don’t got cause to hunt or nothin’?’ he asks.

Karkat sighs. 

‘Can you fish?’

Bro actually looks close to uncomfortable. Huh, has he ever admitted to not knowing how to do something before? Dave looks at him curiously.

‘What, can you really not fish?’ he asks.

‘Shut up. You can’t either.’

‘So? You never took me.’

Karkat sighs again.

‘Agriculture? Carpentry? Medicine? Animals? Crafting? Fucking hell, cleaning? Anything?’

‘Bro can sew,’ Dave says helpfully. 

‘I’m not fucking sewing.’

Karkat groans and leans his forehead onto the table. 

‘You guys are the worst,’ he tells the table. ‘The absolute worst.’

‘Nah, brother,’ Gamzee says. He’s chopping up a pineapple with frankly alarming casualness and competency. ‘You hated the last humans way worse.’

‘I have bountiful hate,’ Karkat groans. ‘It’s as fertile and rich as this island. More so, somehow. As the mothergrub herself, may she ooze forevermore.’

Dave makes a mildly disgusted face and Bro, with his uncanny Bro-senses, kicks him in the ankle to make him stop without ever looking at him. Dave grits his teeth. _Right_ on the end of the fibula. 

‘You know what, fuck it. It’s been a while since I breathed down everyone’s neck. Let’s go tour the fucking island.’

Dave pops the last bit of bread in his mouth and wonders if he can get another one of those cookies. He steals Bro’s crust instead of asking. Bro slaps at his hand too late, Dave’s already got it. His fault for tearing the crusts off and then only eating them once he’s done with the middle bit. Fuckin’ weirdo.

Karkat watches them with interest. Dave isn’t sure he likes being looked at like that, like Karkat’s going to figure them out no matter how careful and Striderian they are.


End file.
